


A Simple Request

by Tarash



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fisting, Bottom!Sherlock, Fisting, Fisting for science, M/M, Medical gloves, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 13:03:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3210167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarash/pseuds/Tarash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock asks John to fist him.</p><p>John does.</p><p>(That's it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Simple Request

“John, I need you to fist me. Preferably tonight, although tomorrow morning is also acceptable.”

John prides himself on the fact that he doesn’t immediately blurt out a surprised ‘What?!’, but instead waits five seconds for his brain to reboot, and then says, “why tonight?”

Sherlock doesn’t look up from the book on west African flora he’s been reading. “It’s for a case that I plan on having resolved by tomorrow afternoon.”

That does technically answer John’s question, but not in the way he wanted it. “…a case that can only be solved by me fisting you?” he asks.

He closes the book and looks at John. “Well, it’s not strictly necessary but if you don’t, solving it will take longer.”

John nods at that. That still doesn’t answer his question the way he wanted it to, but it’s probably the closest to a satisfactory answer Sherlock is going to give him. “Right.”

“I trust you know what fisting is?”

He's almost insulted. “Of course.” He’s a medical doctor; he’s very familiar with kinks and fetishes that can present a health risk, especially the ones involving the anus. He’s stopped being surprised by what people will shove up their butts in an attempt to sexually satisfy themselves after about six months in Afghanistan.

“And that you know how to do it safely?”

Now he’s insulted. “Of course!”

“Good.” There is a hint of a smile on his face now. “I’ve already bought the supplies. I assume you have medical gloves around? PVC ones?”

“Yes.” He has a box of those in the house, taken from the medical centre where they’re used for people with latex allergies. They have come in handy in removing some of Sherlock’s… experiments… from the fridge. “So, you want to do this now?” He has to admit that the thought of fisting Sherlock, of Sherlock having that much trust in him, of Sherlock having gone out to buy lube, that those thoughts are definitely getting him hot.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He puts the book on the table next to him. “I’m going to take a shower first. I’ll see you in the bedroom.”

“Right,” he says. Sherlock might be the one getting fisted, he is also the one giving the orders.

Not that John minds.

He never expected sex with Sherlock to be boring, but he didn’t expect their sexlife to take a turn for the kinkier only a month into their… whatever-it-is.

~

Sherlock is naked when he enters his bedroom, where John has been waiting, sitting on Sherlock’s bed, still with his trousers on. He felt awkward enough waiting, never mind waiting around naked. Sherlock’s eyes flicker down and he huffs quietly before turning to his nightstand.

John’s eyes focus on Sherlock’s buttocks. They are pale and soft to the touch and John is about to slide his fist in there. His hand tightens around the two medical gloves he’s brought with him.

Sherlock pulls out the lube. “Shall we?” he asks, his silky voice steady as if they’re about to head out to a crime scene.

John nods, and shifts to give Sherlock space on the bed. “So, how do you want to do this?” His own voice isn’t nearly as steady.

“Hands and knees, I should think. It seems like the most comfortable position for both parties,” he replies.

John is tempted to ask Sherlock if he’s researched fisting porn for all the possible positions there are, but he doesn’t, since Sherlock definitely has. His cock twitches eagerly in his pants. “Good.” He watches as Sherlock gets into position on the bed, his thighs spread slightly and John swallows hard. He hasn’t, so far, fucked Sherlock yet, since he was more than happy to be fucked, but now the idea of curling his hands around Sherlock’s hips and sinking into that tight heat was all he wanted.

“You may begin, John,” Sherlock tells him.

John blinks, and nods. “Yes, of course.” He sits up on his knees behind Sherlock, all that beautiful pale skin before him, and before he can stop himself he has slapped Sherlock’s right buttock hard. The noise is loud and Sherlock flinches, his skin reddening immediately. “Uhm,” says John, his face flushed.

“Spanking,” Sherlock tells him, turning his head to glare at John, “will not be necessary tonight.”

“Right, some other time, then,” he says, mostly as a joke.

“Some other time.” Sherlock has turned his face away again.

John hopes Sherlock’s not joking. He starts pulling the medical glove on, the familiar feeling of the PVC puts his frazzled mind at ease somewhat. “Now, you know you have to stay relaxed and calm, right?”

“Yes.”

“And that you have to tell me when it gets too uncomfortable or painful?”

“Yes.”

With a snap, John pulls the glove into place, nodding with satisfaction. “Then I’ll start with one finger, and add one when you tell me you’re ready.”

“Start with two.”

Of course he’s impatient. “I will start,” he says pointedly, “with one.”

Sherlock mutters something under his breath, but doesn’t get up. “Fine.”

He can’t help a smile as he drizzles some lube onto his own fingers, rubbing them against one another before sliding his index finger slowly but surely inside. It goes in easily, and Sherlock hisses but otherwise doesn’t react. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Fine. You can add the second one.”

After the application of more lube, he does. It still goes in easy enough, but he can see Sherlock tense up at the intrusion. “Remember to relax, Sherlock.”

“I am,” Sherlock snaps back.

When his index and middle finger are inside to the their knuckles, John slowly starts pumping them in and out. He brushes Sherlock’s prostrate, and enjoys the way Sherlock’s entire body shudders in pleasure. He repeats the motion a few more times, smiling at Sherlock’s gasps.

“I didn’t ask you for a – a prostrate exam, John,” Sherlock tells him after the fifth time. “The third finger. Now.”

“I thought it might help you relax.” His ring finger goes in with some difficulty, even after he’s added more lube. It’s definitely getting tight now, and Sherlock’s anus is getting stretched wider now. “Any pain?”

“No,” Sherlock insists. “The fourth finger, John.”

John doesn’t immediately shove his little finger in, because he’s not even in to the knuckles yet. Once he is, he pulls back out a few inches before pushing back in. “In a bit.”

“Now!”

Sherlock’s trembling, and John leans forward to see why. His face is flushed, and his cock is erect and already shining with pre-come. No wonder Sherlock is impatient for more.

John quickly adds more lube and it takes some wriggling to get his little finger inside of Sherlock alongside the rest of his fingers. “Still no pain?” he asks, slightly amazed. The way Sherlock’s anus is stretched tight around his fingers… it can’t be comfortable. He pushes his fingers in deeper.

“No,” Sherlock manages, and it’s almost a moan. “Deeper.”

He does as he’s told, sliding in to the last knuckle, and then he has to take a deep, steadying breath himself. Part of his hand is about to slide inside Sherlock, and he has to be careful here. He applies even more lube, and then pushes deeper very gently. His knuckles slip inside with some difficulty and a grunt from Sherlock, but the rest of his hand goes in almost easily. “Sherlock… this is…” He can’t express his thoughts. He’s impressed, and flattered, and worried at the same time. His thumb is still outside Sherlock’s body, and stops John from going deeper. Sherlock’s body is hot and tight around his fingers, and John finds it surprisingly enjoyable. He really hopes he gets to fuck Sherlock tonight, he needs to feel this around his cock.

“It’s good,” Sherlock moans, hanging his head. “Your thumb, John. Your thumb. I need all of you.”

John nods. He needs this too, but he’s not that impatient that he forgets about making sure to use more lube. He slides his hand out a little, his thumb pressed against the palm of his hand and pushes back in.

Sherlock hisses and grunts, his hands curling into fists as he pulls on the bedsheets, but he doesn’t tell John to stop.

John goes slowly, agonisingly slowly, and it’s difficult to get his thumb past the tight ring between Sherlock’s cheeks, but he manages it in the end. He lets out a relieved laugh, sliding his hand in deeper. “Sherlock. Sherlock, we’ve done it!”

“Wonderful,” Sherlock manages, his breathing rougher now. “Oh yes, deeper.”

He goes in to his wrist, and marvels at how Sherlock’s managed to take his hand inside of him. The anus is stretched wider than John thought possible – he knew it was possible, of course, but knowing and seeing are two different things.

“John…” Sherlock moans, and John’s name has never sounded more divine. “Yes, that’s it, move!”

He experimentally moves his fingers a little, his thumb quickly finding Sherlock’s prostate again. He can feel Sherlock buck up, feel the slight tremble of his body. “Relax,” he says, resting his other hand on Sherlock’s hip.

“John, _please_ ,” and Sherlock’s voice is ragged.

John doesn’t need to look to know that Sherlock’s cock has to be achingly hard and leaking pre-come now. His own cock is probably no better. “I’ll give you what you need.”

Sherlock whimpers, his arms trembling, and when John slides his hand back out to push it back in harder, Sherlock falls to his elbows with a loud moan.

John freezes. “Sherlock?”

“Good,” Sherlock tells him. “It’s good. Keep going. Don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t. He keeps experimenting with the movement of his fingers, with twisting his hand around carefully inside of Sherlock, with sliding out and pushing back in, and also keeps an eye and ear on Sherlock’s reactions.

Sherlock, for his part, moans and gasps and lets out high-pitched whines of pure need. He’s even rocking up against John’s arm, wanting more even when he’s filled so completely.

It doesn’t surprise John when, after a couple of minutes more, Sherlock pushes back and then shudders as he groans and comes onto the sheets. White streaks of come erupt from his cock, and John smiles to himself, pleased and proud of himself. He very slowly slides his hand out of Sherlock, and stands up to get rid of the glove.

There’s a thud behind him, and John turns to see Sherlock lying on his side, a fine sheen of sweat covering his body.

“So,” John asks, unbuckling his belt. “You enjoyed that?”

“Mmm,” is all Sherlock replies, his eyes closed. His dark curls are plastered against his sweaty forehead. “Yes. So did you.”

He smiles. “I did.” Once he’s pushed down his trousers and underwear and steps out of them, he moves over to the nightstand. His cock is bobbing up and down in the air. “I’d hate to be presumptive, but…”

Sherlock opens one eye, and looks at John’s face before looking at his cock. “Yes, John, you can fuck me, but only if you don’t expect me to move.”

John takes out a condom. There’s some space on the bed behind Sherlock. “Oh, I think I’ll manage.”

Sherlock closes his eyes again, and shifts to get more comfortable. “Good.”


End file.
